


It Is Beautiful

by FFanon



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Monks, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:39:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFanon/pseuds/FFanon
Summary: The Baker's daughter finds love with the silent, gentle man.





	It Is Beautiful

For years your village provided the nearby monastery with fresh bread, vegetables, and fruit.  It started before you were even born.  Your village had been destroyed by a storm, lives were lost. The monks traveled every day to help rebuild when they heard. Ever since, the village and its people have continued the tradition of supplying them with food.

 

As the baker’s daughter, you inherited being the deliverer. You requested it even. Exploring the vast land and getting an escape was something you enjoyed.  And what it brought forth for you was something you had never anticipated.

 

As you rode up on your horse, Daisy, the nearby monks came to greet you as they always do. You see him back by the barn, his attention peaked when you arrived. As you get down and start taking the food from from the saddle bags, you try not to glance his way too much.  The monks thank you immensely as they always do then head into the monastery with their goods.

 

You take that moment to walk over to him and he stops brushing the horse when he sees you approach. 

 

As soon as you smile, he glances down before looking back up, a shy grin on his face, that soft beard of his concealing it from those not nearby.

 

As you bypass him, walking to your right, your hand catches his. Quickly you pull him towards the barn entrance as a quiet giggle floats back to him.

 

With a quick glance around, he lets you pull him, dropping the brush into nearby hay.  As soon as the two of you are concealed by the barn’s walls, you lean back against one, pulling the curly-haired man towards you.

 

His hand splays next to your head, his other finding your hip as you both smile before kissing each other.

 

When your hands find his face, fingers curling into his beard, he feels at home.

 

“I missed you,” you smile. It had been a week since you were there last. 

 

He simply returns your smile, his own hand coming up to run along your cheek. And you know that means he feels the same. 

 

He doesn’t speak. Never did. You remember when they first found him. You had been joining your father on the deliveries, learning the routes when you saw him following the monks around, listening intently to their words.  The mop of curly hair and the dark beard made him appear intimidating, but then he had looked at you. Those dark eyes of his couldn’t have been any softer. 

 

A young monk always spoke to him as if he would respond, and though he never did, he always listened. So you decided to do the same, speak to him like you would any other. And over time, almost like one would do with an animal, you picked up his mannerisms and looks. Learned to read him and communicate with him in a way you never could with anyone else.

 

Time was short when you delivered.  Too long of a stay and the monks may get suspicious.

 

“When will they give you your hour?” 

 

Every day, he is allowed an hour of his own. No labor to be done, just reflection of his own choosing.  He doesn’t always use it to see you, to keep the relationship quiet, but he does when he can.

 

He takes your hand and leads you to the barn entrance.  With his hand on top of yours, he lifts them up and points with them to the sky. 

 

The position of the sun when he will meet you.

 

“You promise?” you ask with hope. 

 

A short nod before his hands are on your face, forehead pressing to yours. With your smaller hands, you cover his on your cheeks before kissing him again.

 

“Okay. I have to go,” you frown slightly, “I will meet you there.”

 

His eyes trail to your forehead, his hand smoothing over your hair sweetly before his soft eyes are on yours. A loving grin on your face as you press your hand over his heart. His fingertips brush along your knuckles at his chest before he reaches out and lightly touches your lips causing you to blush.  Leaning forward quickly, you give him a quick kiss and feel his hand graze your thigh.

 

The sounds of the monks coming back outside spur you both to quickly move. He picks up the brush, continuing to use it on the horse as you stand on the other side, petting it. 

 

You share a look with him, before approaching the returning monks, “Is the food alright?”

 

“Oh, yes. We thank you and your people as always.”

 

With a small bow of your head, you share goodbyes then ride off with Daisy.

 

-

 

During his hour, you met at your usual spot. The meadow not far from the monastery. 

 

Your legs are straight out in front of you and you’re leaning back on your hands. Head leaning back, your face basking in the warm sunlight.

 

He’s laying on his back, his head resting in your lap. His own eyes closed as he just absorbs this time with you.

 

You sit up, looking down at him. Slowly, you run your fingers repeatedly through his hair, a small smile on your face as you look down at him.

 

He breathes deep a few times, enjoying the soothing feel of your loving actions. The hand you have resting on his chest, he picks up, bringing your palm to his lips. Soft kisses are pressed to your skin there.

 

You lean down, smoothing your hand over his hair, kissing his forehead.  Then you catch sight of something you’re surprised you never saw before, a white line of scar tissue peeking out from his collar.

 

“What is this?” you ask gently as you run your fingertips over it. He acts like you burned him, sitting up in an instant. He shifts so he’s sitting facing you.

 

“I am sorry,” you ever so slightly frown at his reaction. 

 

His chest is starting to heave and you realize he’s nervous, his eyes looking around at the ground between you as you can see thoughts are swirling in his head.

 

Slowly you move to your knees and make your way to him. Those eyes stay on you as you settle on the back of your heels, hands on his knees that are pulled up in front of him.

 

“Show me?” you ask between a plea and an urge.

 

He just looks at you, thinking. You’re nervous yourself, you’ve never seen him shirtless before. 

 

Then his hand is reaching behind his neck and slowly pulls the collar of his shirt up. As the hem rises higher, the collage of scars come into view.  

 

You cover your small gasp with your hand as he shamefully keeps his eyes to the ground, his shirt now piled next to him.

 

He watches as your hand reaches out and finds that scar by his collarbone again. He steals quick glances at your face, your glossy eyes trained on the scar. 

 

As you look at his entire self, you can see how some scars curve around his sides and you just know that his back looks just like the front. 

 

It’s surprising for him when he feels your hands cup his jaw, thumbs stroking his ears. With that he lifts his face to look at you. 

 

“I love you,” you whisper through your broken heart from his obvious violent past.

 

Never had you said those words to him or any other man besides your own father. But you know this gentle man in front of you, trust him, and deep down you’ve always known that you also love him.

 

His brow furrows at first, eyes flickering back and forth as he looks into yours. All he can think is how? How could anyone truly love him after what he’s done? But here you are. And after seeing his battle scars, you stayed. 

Unsure now if he even feels the same, you feel like maybe you’ve ruined something.

 

But how wrong you are.

 

He sweetly pets the side of your face as you see his eyes fill with emotion. You start to smile as he pulls you between his legs more, holding you to his body. 

 

You press kisses along his beard as his hands roam along your dress. 

 

Then his hand cups your cheek and you stop to look at him. He presses his hand to his heart then presses that same hand over yours. 

 

He loves you too.

 

-

 

On one of your deliveries, the monks had informed you that they all would be gone on a week long religious retreat. Their mute brother would be staying behind to care for the land, so only bring enough food for one on your next trip.

 

When you rode up to the monastery, you had enough food for two for a week and a small satchel of clothing.  

 

He meets you and takes Daisy’s reins as you dismount. With his free arm, he wraps it around your waist, curling you into him, and kisses you. 

 

“I may still stay?” you sincerely ask, but can’t hide your excitement. 

 

He smiles in response, hand holding your cheek as he kisses your other one. 

 

That night, he had set up some candles in his little room that he had in the basement. When he brought you down there, the glow of the candles were beautiful.

 

He had laid down first, you settling in next to him.  And it wasn’t surprising when you two started kissing. But you knew him and that he wouldn’t try to go any further.  

 

You gently push him back and sit up, slowly moving up to your knees. He stays on his back, eyes on you as you start pulling your skirt up, then grabbing the hem to pull off your dress completely.  

 

You sit back down, your legs tucked to the side as you look down at him. You pet his beard and give him a small nod.  He sits up and you grab the hem of his shirt. As soon as you remove it, he’s wrapping his arms around you, guiding you back down to the bed. 

 

The two of you make love together for the first time. The only sounds he makes are the gentle groans in your ear.

 

Afterwards, you two cuddled and kissed until sleep found you both.

 

When you woke up, he wasn’t next to you, but a single flower was. Blushing you pick it up and smell its sweet floral scent. 

 

It was obvious he was out doing his duties as he promised the monks. 

 

When you finally head upstairs, you find him at the fire alcove, cooking breakfast. He’s still shirtless and he turns when he hears you. Dressed in only the linen undergarment from your dress, the sheerness leaving nothing to the imagination. 

 

The grin that spreads on his face at the sight of you makes you want to hold him forever. With the flower in your hand, you walk over to him holding it up.

 

“It is beautiful,” you smile as you smell it again.

 

The way his hand reaches up and caresses your cheek, love in his eyes, tells you he thinks the same about you. He runs a hand through your hair, taking his time to enjoy it’s silky feel.

 

Giddy with love, you blush as he angles his face and kisses you. The passion behind it evident, you gently grip the back of his head to keep steady.

 

When he pulls away, he gently takes the flower from your hand. You watch as he folds half the stem, twisting it around itself, then reaches up and tucks the stem behind your ear. The flower now on display. 

 

The sweetest smile you give him and he can’t help but kiss you again. 

 

The week is spent as the couple you wish you could always be. You find enjoyment helping him with his chores.  You love watching him work and his expressions at different things. Every evening you two walk along the beach and every night you two make love, taking advantage of this short time you have to be fully together. 

 

The final morning together you two spend in bed. His hands roaming your naked curves as his lips move along your neck. Eventually you two managed to separate long enough to gather your things and get Daisy ready for your ride home. 

 

Saying goodbye to him was hard even though you knew you’d see him again. You laughed lightly in embarrassment as a few tears rolled down your cheeks, “My love, I will simply miss this and miss you,” you manage a small smile through your few tears. 

 

He watches you with concentration as he wipes your tears away. Hugging you to his chest, he places several kisses along your face. 

 

It takes several long kisses before you’re riding Daisy back to your village. 

 

-

 

It had been weeks since you spent those days with him. Your interactions cut back down to your deliveries and some of his hours. 

 

He was walking back from the beach with the young monk, smiling at the memories of your time together there, when they heard the monks in a commotion. Both running back, they saw several pointing to the distance as several more were quickly loading their few carts.

 

He follows their gaze to see a giant pillar of smoke rising in the not too far distance.

 

“The village!” He heard a monk moan in horror.

 

Panicked for your safety, he quickly mounts the last remaining horse and takes off for your village. He bypasses the two carts full of monks and supplies heading the same way.

 

When he arrives, the entire town is engulfed, some homes already burned to the ground. It was the bloody bodies laying around that let him know this was no accident. 

 

He hears the laughter of men followed by a woman’s cries and pleas. 

 

Grabbing the axe of a fallen man, he runs towards it, all the while looking around for any sign of you.  He does not see the men, but hears the woman scream again. As he follows the sounds, he comes upon the source.

 

Two knights, one pinning you to the forest floor as he starts ripping your dress, obvious in his intent. 

 

You’re crying for your murdered family and the fear for your own life when a deep roar startles you all. 

 

Your love appears and rushes at your attackers.  An axe in his hands, you watch as he nearly decapitates one before attacking the other.

 

Quickly you crawl out of the way, curling against a tree as you try to hold your dress together. The tears don’t stop.

 

It’s quiet again. He wipes the blood from his face before taking a knee in front of you. Slowly he reaches out and you jump at the physical contact at first. But when you turn your head and see who it is, your tears fall faster. Relief washing over you because you knew now you were finally safe. 

 

He gathers you in his arms and you cling to him, burying your wet face in his neck. 

 

The monks arrive to find him walking back towards the horse, you in his arms and his expression cold.

 

When the monks go to reach for you, he swings you to the side away from their hands and can’t help but almost snarl at them. 

 

No one is to touch you. 

 

It’s not that he doesn’t trust them, but he needs to be the one to keep you safe. 

 

Any other survivors managed to flee, only a few making it to the monastery as well. 

 

He keeps watch over you as you sleep in his bed, after you finally calmed enough to do so. He stays planted on the wooden stool next to the bed.

 

At the sound of footsteps, his head whips around to see one of the elder monks enter his room.

 

He turns away, focusing on you again.

 

The monk places a hand on his shoulder, “My son, you care deeply for this woman?”

 

He doesn’t look away from your face when he gives a nod.

 

“One may even say love?” 

 

Again, he gives a nod.

 

“Speak to her,” and at those words he finally looks up at the man in cloth.

 

“You have atoned for your sins, brother. You have paid what debt you believe you have owed us. This woman, you love her thus you need her. You need a true home...and she is it.”

 

With a couple pats to his shoulder, the monk leaves you both alone.

 

He stands and slowly lays next to you. Gently his arms wrap around you, careful not to wake you.

 

Some minutes later you wake with a start, the beginnings of a nightmare from what had occurred. But he’s right there with you, rubbing your back, lips pressed to your forehead. Snuggling closer, you keep a hand on his beard as you press your forehead to his cheek. 

 

“(y/n).”

 

It’s quiet and raspy, but it shocked you not for that reason. Quickly you pull your head back and lovingly grasp his face, “You speak!” you smile with tears in your eyes, “You finally speak my name.“

 

His lips brush your jaw, “My beautiful love,” he murmurs.

 

The happy tears that roll down your face you cannot help. 

 

“Your name, please, what is it?” you softly beg.

 

His knuckles graze down your soft skin, “I am James,” he smiles. 

 

“James,” you repeat softly to yourself with a smile, “Why do you speak now?” you have to ask though it does not really matter.

 

“You. You love me for everything that I am. And I cannot lose you,” he frowns a bit as he thinks about how he almost did. He wipes your tears, “My love for you runs deep and I can no longer remain silent. My sins must have been forgiven, for an angel was sent to me,” his thumb traces the corner of your mouth even as a smile grows there, one matched by his own.

 

“You never speak, but yet your thoughts are so worthy to be heard,” you stroke his beard as you stare into each other’s eyes. 

 

“My angel, my love. I love you with my entire heart,” he softly shares.

 

How many times you told him, and now you finally can hear him say it back. 

 

You press your hand to your heart then press that same hand over his, a shy smile on your face as you repeat the way he used to tell you.

 

That smile of his could light up the world.

 

His beard tickles as his lips move with yours, a passion so deep you know you had to be made for each other.


End file.
